DREAMER Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: The Lights on Knockbridge Lane by Roan Parrish

Can one man’s crowded, messy life fill another man’s empty heart?

Raising a family was always Adam Mills’ dream, although solo parenting and moving back to tiny Garnet Run certainly were not. After a messy breakup, Adam is doing his best to give his young daughter the life she deserves—including accepting help from their new, reclusive neighbor to fulfill her Christmas wish.

Though the little house may not have “the most lights ever,” the Mills home begins to brighten as handsome Wes Mobray spends more time there and slowly sheds his protective layers. But when the eye-catching house ends up in the news, Wes has to make a choice: hide from the darkness of his unusual past or embrace the light of a future—and a family—with Adam.

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Everyone on Knockbridge Lane had a different theory about Westley Mobray. It was the first thing Adam Mills heard about as he introduced himself around last week, when he and August moved in.

The eight-year-old McKinnon twins next door said he was a vampire. Their parents, Darren and Rose McKinnon, scoffed at that, but said he could be a witch. Marisol Gutierrez three doors down insisted she’d seen him skulking around the neighborhood at night, hunting for animals to sacrifice to the devil. A teenager at the end of the street reported that anyone who looked him in the eyes would be hypnotized, and anyone who touched him would turn to stone. Mr. Montgomery on the corner just said freak.

Westley Mobray was never seen before sunset, though mysterious packages arrived on his doorstep often. He never spoke to anyone and never waved hello. And late at night, the windows of his run-down house glowed an eerie green.

At least, that’s what they told Adam.

So when he saw the man in question through the twilit haze of his own front window—with his daugh­ter in tow—he was understandably startled. Espe­cially since he’d thought she was playing quietly in her room.

He’d slammed two coffees to prevent it, but he’d been asleep. The kind of light, unsatisfying sleep he often fell into when he had a moment of quiet. Which was something that didn’t happen that often as the newly single parent of an eight-year-old.

His insomnia had been pretty bad since the di­vorce, and worse since they moved back to Garnet Run, where he was the only one responsible for Gus.

The knock at the door jerked him out of that strange sleep, and he scrambled for the door, stub­bing his toe in the process, so that when he yanked it open he was biting back the kind of words that he tried with varying degrees of success not to say in front of Gus.

He focused on Gus first. She was all in one piece and was even smiling. It was her I did something bad and delightful smile, but a smile was good—at least when on a child who seemed to have been forcibly dragged home by an irate stranger.

“Where is your coat?” is what came out of Adam’s mouth.

Sometimes he tried to remember what it was like when he talked about things like the composition of his next shot, which restaurant’s tiramisu he pre­ferred, or the latest cozy mystery he was reading.

Now he said things like “Where is your coat” and “Don’t take that apart” and “If you don’t stop mak­ing that sound I might have to throttle you.” Okay, he didn’t say the last one so much as think it. Often.

“It’s not that cold,” his wonderful, brilliant daugh­ter said, her lips only vaguely blue.

Adam counseled himself to breathe.

Once he’d determined that Gus was all in one piece and frostbite wasn’t imminent, he turned his atten­tion to the man who’d brought her home.

“Um,” he said intelligently.

Westley Mobray was tall and severe, with shaved dark hair and strong dark eyebrows over piercing blue eyes. Those eyes were narrowed slightly, ei­ther in anger or—if the neighborhood rumors were to be believed—because he never went outside when there was the slightest bit of light still in the sky, as it would, of course, burn him to ash.

“She broke into my house,” he said. His voice was low and rough with disuse.

“She’s eight.”

About the Author

​Roan Parrish lives in Philadelphia, where she’s gradually attempting to write love stories in every genre. When not writing, she can be found cutting her friends’ hair, meandering through the city while listening to torch songs and melodic death metal, or cooking overly elaborate meals. She loves bonfires, winter beaches, minor chord harmonies, and self-tattooing. One time she may or may not have baked a six-layer chocolate cake and then thrown it out the window in a fit of pique.

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DREAMER Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Second Chance to Wear His Ring by Hana Sheik

A forgotten past…

Could pave the way to forever!

When millionaire Mansur Ali is called urgently home to Somaliland, he’s shocked to find that the woman who broke his heart needs his help. After an accident, Amal has lost many memories…including Manny’s marriage proposal and her rejection! Manny will help her seek treatment in Addis Ababa, but he’s resolved to keep his heart firmly off-limits. A promise that is tested when their journey brings them closer than ever before…a whole lot more?

 

Buy Second Chance to Wear His Ring by Hana Sheik

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Facing the door, his mother had noticed his entry and now called to him, her eyes as large and disbelieving as the young maid’s. The sound of the truck’s running motor grumbled in with the cool breeze. The door to the veranda was open, as were all the windows in the tastefully furnished living area.

She shouldn’t look surprised. She had known he was coming. Manny had left a message for her before he’d boarded his private jet. He’d figured she must have heard it as she’d sent the driver to fetch him.

Then again, she was likely shocked that he had shown up. She hadn’t expected him to heed her summons. And what did that say about him?

That you’re a failure of a son, maybe?

He scowled at the thought and fixed his atten­tion on the scene before him.

His mother stood with the help of a woman who had her back to Manny. He assumed it was another maid. That was the wrong assumption.

“Amal…” Manny breathed her name. It felt too long since he’d allowed himself to think about her. A whole year, to be exact.

If he’d known they would cross paths so quickly he would’ve arranged for his mother to meet him elsewhere. Perhaps in his old bedroom. She’d likely furnished it for him, in the hope that he would opt to stay with her rather than check himself into a hotel.

But it was difficult to think about his accom­modation when his mother was approaching him with Amal.

He flinched as they neared, his instinct roar­ing at him to flee. His heart, a battering ram, drummed so loud he feared that Amal would hear it. That she would know how easily she con­tinued to affect him.

Curiosity kept him rooted. But he was seconds from storming out of the house to spend his first day here in a hotel.

Only the flash of emotional pain in his moth­er’s wet eyes cooled his indignation. Halima Ahmed Adan didn’t shed tears lightly. Only two instances came to his mind before this: when his father had died last year and when Mansur had announced his plan to leave for America on a college scholarship at the impressionable age of seventeen.

But she was crying now, her shawl forgotten where she’d left it on the ornately patterned floor cushions.

“Hooyo,” she said, and the Somali term of endearment wrapped itself around his heart. It meant mother, and by choice he hadn’t had one this past year, for reasons he was still ashamed to contemplate.

Moved by her tears, Manny stepped into her open arms and sank into her embrace.

She pressed her mouth to his ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Manny murmured.

Over his mother’s shoulder, he met Amal’s eyes. Her face free of makeup, her tawny, red­dish-brown skin glowed as if freshly scrubbed. She wore a neutral expression. Her midnight-blue silk veil was styled to match her dress. Snug around her chest and curvy hips, its flowing de­sign was meant to discourage the kind of heated thoughts slipping into Manny’s head unbidden.

Squeezing his mother tighter, Manny eased his hold when she gasped and gave a small laugh. He’d almost forgotten he was hugging her.

“Forgive me,” Manny mumbled, releasing his mother.

When his hands dropped to his sides again he flexed his fingers, the lingering feel of her warm­ing his gut and falling over him like a comfort blanket. It was easier to hold on to the grudg­ing anger.

Noting where his attention was directed, his mother grasped Amal’s hand and pulled her closer. “Have you forgotten Amal?” she asked.

Like he could forget Amal Khalid.

About the Author

Hana Sheik falls in love every day reading her favourite romances and writing her own happy-ever-afters. She's worked as a data entry operator, customer service rep, telemarketer, and ghostwriter—but being a romance author is without a doubt the best job ever! Born in Somalia, she moved to the beautiful capital of Canada as a toddler, and still lives there happily with her family.

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DREAMER Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: A Delicious Dilemma by Sera Taino

Different worlds collide in Sera Taino's debut novel.

It's hard to remain enemies when you've broken bread together

Val Navarro’s first mistake: going out dancing after a bad breakup when the chef should be focused on her family business. Her second mistake? Thinking the handsome, sensitive stranger she meets could be more than a rebound – until she discovers he’s Philip Wagner of Wagner Developments. His father’s company could shut down her Puerto Rican restaurant and unravel her tight-knit neighborhood. When Philip takes over negotiations, Val wants to believe he has good intentions. But is following her heart a recipe for disaster?

Buy A Delicious Dilemma by Sera Taino

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Val took a sip of her añejo, listening to the beats of a reggaetón mash-up as it boomed through the room. People made their way to the dance platform, dappled in colors from the strobe lights. Val loved the way the music blasted through her body, the reverberations of the pumping bass through her bones; it had been too long since she’d felt this loose.

Olivia, who had stopped to talk to people she knew, grabbed Val by the hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

“I also forgot how much fun dancing could be,” Val shouted.

“Yeah, that Luke did a number on you,” Olivia shouted back.

Val waved her hands, indicating she didn’t want to talk about Luke or anyone else. She just wanted to enjoy the music, let her mind grow empty of everything except the lyrics and the beat. Reggaetón was a gift to someone like her—US born but every bit as Puerto Rican as a transplant could be without having lived on the island. It was the soundtrack of the vaivén, or the back-and-forth movement that characterized the migration of people going from the mainland to the island and back again.

Val danced until the song changed. Olivia’s face split into an uncharacteristically dazzling smile at her girlfriend’s arrival. Aleysha’s smooth, dark skin contrasted sharply with light brown eyes the color of burnished bronze that were shocking even from a distance.

Aleysha raced over to them, giving Val a glossy, messy kiss on her cheek before flinging her arms around Olivia. “Why didn’t you text me when you got here?”

Olivia shrugged. “I figured you’d be late, like always, so why stress you?”

“You’re one to talk. Let’s go sit with Malena.” She gave Val a wink. “She’s been seeing this one guy and he brought a friend of his.”

Ugh, not a spontaneous blind date. That was the last thing she needed tonight. But of course, before she could say no, Olivia spoke for her. “Why not?”

“I’m not really—” Val started but Aleysha put a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re just hanging out. No pressure, okay?”

She just wanted to dance, maybe catch a buzz and go home in peace. But Olivia and Aleysha were wrapped up in each other, so Val had no choice but to follow them. At the far end of the patio, she recognized Malena, who often stopped into her family’s restaurant for a late lunch. She sold real estate in one of the smaller boutique agencies in Wagner Financial Place. Malena was leaning into a good-looking man she introduced as Étienne, who said his name with a voluptuous, Creole accent.

At the end of the table, almost in his own orbit, sat Étienne’s friend.

“And this is Philip,” Aleysha said.

He was whispering something to Étienne, initially unaware of her, but when he turned, the overhead lights flashed, illuminating the most striking blue eyes she’d ever seen. They reminded her of the Caribbean lapping at the beaches of Ponce, where her family used to vacation when she was a child. Music skipped through the space between them before passing her by. How long had she been staring at him. A few seconds? Minutes?

She gave him a cursory wave, determined to cover her dazed reaction before taking the seat next to Olivia. He had the kind of face that was just shy of being too good-looking and it kept dragging at her attention. Through sheer force of will, she fixed her gaze on her cousin to tame her wayward eyes, focusing intensely on her conversation without really processing the meaning of her words. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d forget she was there.

But she didn’t have that kind of luck. He slid into the chair next to her and cleared his throat.

 

About the Author

Debut romance author Sera Taíno has been selected for Harlequin’s Romance Includes You Mentorship, an initiative launched in 2019 to reach out to diverse communities of writers and bring more own voices stories to romance readers. Her unpublished, #ownvoices novel, Incomparable, will be published with Harlequin Special Edition in 2021 as part of the mentorship initiative. When she is not writing, she can usually be found teaching, traveling, or wrangling her family.

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